


One Magic Word

by adkal



Category: Shazam! (2019), Shazam! | Captain Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-01-01 03:32:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18327773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adkal/pseuds/adkal
Summary: Based on the DCEU - continues the MoS and BvS pieces posted previously





	1. Chapter 1

Idahet, Egypt 1945

Sand swirls through the air as a strong wind cuts through an otherwise non-descript and quiet part of the desert. Millennia ago, the barren terrain had been known for its quarry of dark stone; now, after years of quiet, the area is an archaeological dig buzzing with activity as wooden crates are hammered shut and placed on stripped-down Canadian Military Pattern Ford 15s and Chevrolet WB 30 trucks. A couple of the vehicles bear faint, scratched-through symbols of a scorpion within a wheel, but, other than that, there are no distinguishing markings.

Small groups of archaeologists, assistants and locals work in several marked off areas edging wooden fences that have been placed around a large hole in the ground. Sand-covered steps lead down from the boarded surface to a pillared entrance with paraffin lamps lining the walls of the corridor beyond it.

The ground shakes and animals begin panicking and braying. There is a massive explosion and a thick cloud of sand suddenly hides the dig from sight.

A massive dark-grey stone pillar soars through the air and slams onto and through a series of tents and huts situated around a smaller excavation site. Dozens of men yell and shout and run from the site, rushing and clambering towards the tented village west of the old quarry.

A smooth boulder made of the same stone as the pillar arcs in the sky and lands on the pillar. There is a loud boom as both shatter, sending shards and chunks of rock in all directions. Several people fall to the ground or cry out in pain and a half dozen animals break free of their moorings and pens while some other animals stumble and fall.

Sand dunes heave and shift and a huge hole opens up in the ground, revealing a vast underground hall lined with dark pillars. Standing in sand up to his thighs, a tall blond man dressed in green military-style uniform glares at a twelve-foot high ball of sand in front of him. On his chest is a white swastika in a black circle, next to which, just below his heart, are three gold medals. Red gloves cover most of his forearms and, on his shoulders, there are gold tasselled shoulder pads. He spits and grits his teeth as sand falls from his short hair. The sand-ball shimmers and cracks and clumps of sand fall to the ground to reveal an opaque sphere of dense purple energy.

The walls of the sphere ripple and slowly become translucent, revealing, bit by bit, three figures huddled slightly behind a fourth. The blond military man scowls at the first figure he sees: a man in a green body suit with a green hood and a red cape. On his chest is a large symbol of a black diamond edged in red. Covering his eyes are a pair of pilot’s goggles.

The military man’s scowl turns into a smirk when the second figure is revealed: a taller man wearing a red long-sleeved top and yellow pants and dark boots, his hands raised in a boxing stance. Around his wrists are what seem to be wide gold bracelets, and on his head is a silver helmet, shaped like the end of a bullet.

The third figure is a woman dressed in a similar outfit as the second man, including the bullet-shaped helmet. She stands quietly and stares straight ahead.

The fourth figure, the last to be revealed by the now transparent sphere, stands in front of them with his arms raised. He is a young tan-skinned man wearing a bejewelled red turban and a blue suit and, in his right hand, is a stick a little over a foot long, topped with a glowing symbol of an ibis bird.

‘Why are you so angry?’ says the turbaned man in melodious, albeit heavily-accented, English. His eyes are wide as he looks around at the hall. Sunlight from the hole above dances over various symbols on the pillars and pedestals and the sand covering the floor glistens black and gold.

'Where is Garrett?' the military man growls, slowly. His English is accented in German. He looks down at his legs and shifts his hips, loosening the sand around him. He then looks down into the sphere and sees that there is no sand around their feet.

'He left soon after calling us,' says the man in the silver helmet. He keeps his hands up in a boxer's stance.

'Lies,’ snarls the military-man. ‘No vehicle has left this place in days. My men made sure of that.'

'You know we do not lie, Krieger,' says the man in the turban.

Krieger shakes his head. 'I knew none of your kind could be trusted and now, with these Americans here, my doubts are gone.' He suddenly punches the energy sphere and the hall shudders.

The turbaned-man grips the stick with both hands and says, loudly, 'Stop this rampage, Krieger.'

'Krieger extended his hand in friendship, Ibis,' he says, flicking his hand dismissively. 'Captain Nazi will use his fists for the Reich.'

He punches the energy sphere again, then a third time and cracks begin to appear, and the globe slides back a little. Slabs of black stone skip out of the ground and slam into each other and, inside the sphere, the three men struggle against the noise tumbling around them. Ibis tightens his grip on the stick and the sphere brightens and repairs itself.

'Stop this,' he says, as he looks directly at Captain Nazi, 'please. The temple-’

‘Would have been lost if not for us. For the vision of the Fuhrer.’

‘Don’t think your beloved leader would be very impressed with the way you’re behaving right now,’ says the green-cowled man.

Captain Nazi slams his hands onto the sphere and begins to squeeze and press down. ‘You think I care what a man afraid to show his face thinks?’

Just to the side, a dark pillar cracks, the sound booming through the hall, and begins to fall apart. Ibis squeezes his eyes shut for a second before pointing at the pillar and enveloping it with purple energy, pulling the falling pieces back into place.

Rainbow sparks begin to bounce around Captain Nazi’s fingers as he continues pressing down on the sphere. The purple wall begins to give and the sphere hisses and tinkles like broken glass. Ignoring his bleeding nose, Ibis hunches down slightly and mutters something before suddenly standing up straight.

White light fills the hall and bursts out through the hole, fading just as quickly as it appeared. Shrouded in darkness, a wall at the far end of the hall crumbles as Captain Nazi’s body slams into it. The sphere is gone and sand quickly floods into the empty space. The silver-helmeted man hovers in the air, holding the red-caped man, while Ibis and the silver-helmeted woman drift forward over the sand.

‘Let it stop here, Krieger,’ says Ibis. He flicks his finger and a ball of light shoots forward and illuminates the dark section of the hall. He frowns as a slab of broken stone moves and is pushed aside. Captain Nazi steps out of the rubble and dusts his uniform down. He tuts as he steps back into the sand and a gold tassel on his right shoulder pad falls off.

‘What have these Americans said to you, Ibis?’ says Captain Nazi as he watches the other three hover to one side. ‘What did Garrett tell you?’

‘They have said nothing.’

'It doesn't matter,' Captain Nazi shouts in Arabic. Ibis frowns, confused. 'This site and everything and everyone in it belongs to the Reich.'

His voice echoes around them and, above them, the fleeing people slow to a stop. Some of them turn to look back, wary of the light they had seen before and fearful of what they might see now.

‘This place,’ he roars, ‘this pathetic excuse for a nation, this fallen empire.’

He jumps out of the sand and rises into the air and out of the hole in the ground. The workers and archaeologists gasp as he turns in the air and looks down on them.

'You think you can declare us an enemy and that we would leave you be? You think after all we have invested we would expect nothing in return?'

He plunges back down and slams into the hall, enveloping everything with sand.

Up above, the people scream and shout and start running again, tumbling and stumbling as the ground heaves and shudders.

The silver-helmeted man bursts through the wall of sand and lunges at Captain Nazi. He throws a couple of punches at his head but none of them connects. Captain Nazi catches his right fist and then pulls him towards him and grabs him by his helmet.

'Bullets don't hurt me, American,’ he hisses, ‘and a bullet _man_ is something even less.’

Effortlessly, he throws Bulletman out of the hall and on to the sand dunes above. He picks up a piece of a broken pillar and hops out of the hole and throws the stone in the direction of the fleeing people. Purple energy wraps around the stone and pulls it back at Captain Nazi. The stone smashes into him and he tumbles out of the sky and lands in the sand. He stands, stumbles a little and turns and glares at Ibis.

'I hate sullying my mouth with this rasping tongue,’ he says, ‘but without it these people just won't listen. They won't understand.'

'We heard you, Krieger,’ says Ibis. ‘They heard you and they have refused your message.'

'Then they're even stupider than I thought.'

Chains made of purple energy wrap around Captain Nazi's legs, but he leaps up again before they can be drawn taut.

'Your magic is slow, Ibis,' he growls, hovering in the air. 'Slow and old.'

A strange whistling sound fills the air and Captain Nazi frowns at the four people gathered below him. Something slams into him from behind and rams him into the ground. Standing next to Ibis, Bulletgirl shimmers and disappears. The real Bulletgirl hovers in the air, a few feet away from the sandy trench created by Captain Nazi's body.

'It may be old, Krieger,' says Ibis, 'but it has its uses.' A purple 'bracelet' appears around Captain Nazi's wrist and hoists him into the air. It then tugs sharply and slams him into a sandstone wall and pins him against it. Purple chains weave around him and Captain Nazi grunts and twists only to find himself being more and more restricted.

‘These people have done nothing to you, Krieger.’

‘I came here for Garrett.’

‘He’s not here,’ shouts Bulletgirl.

‘I came here for Garrett,’ he repeats, ‘and find betrayal all around me.’

‘Krieger-’ says Ibis.

'We warned all who would resist that punishment would be meted upon them-'

'My people have chosen rightly to stand against you and your Fuhrer's designs-'

'Your people died a long time ago, old man. Your kingdom is gone. You should be with us. We found you laying in slumber as your country collapsed around you-'

The jewel set in the middle of Ibis' turban gleams as he steps forward. 'You risked the life of my beloved. One does not need the wisdom of Thoth to know what would have happened if you had succeeded in awakening her, too.'

'So be it.'

Captain Nazi strains against his bonds. His face reddens with the effort and he begins to roar. Ibis tries to refocus his energies through the stick but the chains suddenly break and waves of light streak across the sands. The shockwave sends him flying backwards and down into the hole while the others, including people fleeing in the distance, are knocked off their feet. A thick crack forms in the sandstone and, sweating and gasping, Captain Nazi falls to his knees.

The desert is quiet for a few seconds and then Captain Nazi looks up and sees the three Americans shimmer in the heat. He stands, tugs on his gloves and smooths the front of his uniform as he drifts over to the red caped man. He sets himself down, his feet on either side of the man's chest, and leans down to pick him up by his head.

'I read about you,' he says, almost whispering. 'Spy Smasher.' He looks around as he holds Spy Smasher with one hand, dangling in the air. 'Quite the annoyance but always on the home front, too weak to come to us. And yet, now…' He sets him down in the sand and pushes him in slightly, as if shoving a peg in the ground. He places his left hand on his shoulder and chambers his right. 'So far from home.'

He punches him and Spy Smasher soars backwards. Surprised, Captain Nazi looks at his fist and then over to the flying body as Bulletgirl arcs over the sand and catches him.

'Have the American's enhanced you, too?' he shouts.

'No,' says Ibis as he rises up from the hole. 'I have.'

Purple energy shimmers around Spy Smasher, Bulletman and Bulletgirl, and the wall of a massive dome appears behind the last of the escaping people. It widens and extends high into the air and envelopes the five combatants.

Captain Nazi smirks and dashes over to Bulletman faster than he can react. The American tries to leap into the air but Captain Nazi forces him to fight in the sand and, although Bulletman initially finds he is able to parry and counter Captain Nazi's blows, he struggles to keep his feet.

'You can give them power, Ibis,' shouts Captain Nazi, laughing, 'but not experience.' There is a loud boom as he punches Bulletman one more time and turns away. With his legs trapped in the sand, the unconscious American falls forward.

A hand made of sand wraps around Captain Nazi and squeezes. There are loud rumbles and thuds from the hall and the cracked sandstone Captain Nazi had previously been pinned to shudders, shakes, and becomes a rock giant. Captain Nazi bursts out of the sand-hand only to then find himself slammed into the ground by a double-fisted blow from the rock giant. As the rock giant rears back to strike again, a black stoned foot crashes into Krieger's back.

Bulletgirl and the now-conscious-again Spy Smasher hurry over to Bulletman. His face is caked in blood and sand but his wounds are already healing.

'Looks like Ibis' magic is giving us the edge we need,' says Spy Smasher. He holds a vial of smelling salts under Bulletman's nose and steps back as he jerks his head and snaps awake.

'Enough!' roars Captain Nazi.

Tendrils of electricity dance across the sky and through the sand and the rock giant and animated-stone statue explode. Surrounded by flames and covered with shards of glass, Captain Nazi stands, his clothes in tatters, and points a Luger pistol at Ibis.

'You've seen the lightning power of a dozen thunderstorms, Ibis,' he says, 'stand down.'

'I cannot do that, Krieger. I am sorry.'

Sand suddenly swirls around Captain Nazi and pieces of black stone slam into him. He hunches forward and shields the pistol as he lurches through the whirlwind. Ibis slowly moves backwards as he continues his magical bombardment.

Captain Nazi holds the pistol with both hands and fires. Lightning streaks through the sky and into the wall of the dome. Ibis shouts and waves his hand, sending Captain Nazi hurtling backwards, and then rushes towards the crumbling force field.

The three Americans, each of them temporarily gifted by Ibis with speed and strength and durability, charge at Captain Nazi and tackle him to the ground.

Captain Nazi grabs Bulletman by the throat and head-butts him. 'Your "Crime Cure" amuses me,' he snarls. He throws Bulletman into Bulletgirl kicks sand at Spy Smasher. 'I was told it made you strong enough to punch into a tank.'

Spy Smasher wraps his cape around Captain Nazi's head, leaps over him and proceeds to throw him over his shoulder. Captain Nazi quickly gets to his feet and pulls the torn cape from his face. 'Goggles,' he spits, and then he dashes at Spy Smasher and pummels him into the ground before tossing him aside and flying towards Ibis.

Ibis turns and a blast of air forces Captain Nazi back towards the hole. Captain Nazi holds up his hands and lands at the edge of the hole. He looks down into the cavern and waits for Ibis to approach.

'They aren't your people, Herr Ibis,' says Captain Nazi, softly. 'You owe them nothing.' He stands with his hands by his sides, palms facing up, as Ibis hovers a short distance away.

'They are my descendants, Herr Krieger. I have a duty to them.'

Captain Nazi nods and says, 'The Reich will make them better.'

Ibis looks at the glowing stick in his hand and says, 'I cannot believe you.'

Without warning, Captain Nazi flicks a small stone at Ibis' head, knocking off one of the jewels. He leaps up, snatches the stick from Ibis' hand and then punches him in his stomach and lets him fall to the ground.

'I have great respect for you, Herr Ibis. Please know this.' He crouches next to him and whispers, 'We did not wake you.' He stands and holds out the stick and says, 'but we will make you sleep.'

The explosion is massive but strange. Sand turns to glass and stone melts but no one is harmed. There is a screamed protest, however, as strange winds wrap around Captain Nazi and pull him down into the dark hall. The Ibis-Stick falls to the ground, next to Ibis, and the force field disappears.

Ibis gasps, coughs and wakes to find three battered faces looking down at him, smiling. In the distance, most huddled in various groups while others chase down the escaped animals, the people from the excavation camp watch, warily.

'Krieger?' rasps Ibis, his throat raw.

'Gone,' says Bulletgirl. 'Your stick vanished him.'

Ibis picks up the Ibis-Stick and closes his eyes. He then nods, opens his eyes, and looks around.

‘I am sorry, my friends,' he says, 'but I must do this.’

‘Do what?’ asks Spy Smasher.

Ibis whispers softly but none of them understand his words: _‘Let all those who are here forget what has been. Let this place be hidden once more and the memory lost.’_


	2. Chapter 2

Seven and a half years ago

_Sivana Industries_

More than half a dozen ornate wooden tables, labelled with the names of places in modern-day Egypt and the Middle East, have been set up in a large wood-panelled room. On each table sit scores of artefacts and note cards and, under the tables, are a number of cardboard boxes. The majority of the artefacts are figurines and sculptures, of which many appear to have been crafted from different types of stone, with most of the larger stone pieces being made of black or dark grey stone. Some of the other pieces are made of metal, a number of which are green or black with age. The blinds are drawn and the room is lit by a series of lamps emitting a soft light, giving everything a musty feel.

A tall dark-haired man, wearing a worn grey suit, stands in front of the long table at the front of the room and leafs through a notebook. On the other side of the room is a dark-haired woman in a dark dress with a white collar and white cuffs, excitedly looking through a box of materials. Unnoticed, the door in the middle of the room quietly opens and a very short, balding, bespectacled man, wearing a lab coat, walks into the room. He is so short that he disappears from sight as he walks behind the artefacts on the first table he comes across as he makes his way towards the centre of the room. He stands, silent and, despite the soft light, his eyes disappear behind the glare on his glasses as he turns, his hands clasped behind his back as he looks over the display.

The tall man catches the movement from the corner of his eye and quickly closes the notebook and places it back on the table in front of him before hurrying over to the much smaller man. He smiles as he holds out his hand. 'Dr Sivana, thank you so much for approving the additional funding for this expedition.'

Ignoring the extended hand, Dr Sivana picks up a small figurine carved from black rock. It is of a seated man with his hands clasped as if in prayer, and he squints at it, grimacing a little before placing it back on the table.

As he wipes his fingers with a cloth and moves on to the next table, Dr Sivana says, his voice croaky, as if it had not been used in a while, 'Clarence, my dear man.' He pauses as he leans forward to examine another figurine, only this time leaving it on the table. The figurine is incomplete and seems to be one of a man with pointed ears seated on a throne. He gestures at the display around them and says, 'Please, it's the least I can do.' He looks up and smiles awkwardly, and it is clear that smiling does not come naturally to him. 'I have to be honest with you, I'm feeling like an excited child about what you will be finding out there.'

Clarence adjusts the lapel of his blazer and looks over at the woman. 'Hoping to find, sir,' he says.

Dr Sivana tuts and shakes his head. 'Clarence, I told you on the phone that you and Marilyn should call me "Dr Sivana". None of this "sir" nonsense.'

Clarence nods and reaches for his collar. He catches himself doing so, lowers his hand, and glances at Marilyn again. She smiles and quickly but gently re-places a couple of items into the box she was looking through before standing up and swiftly keying in the password to her tablet.

'Now,' says Dr Sivana as he slowly steeples his fingers, 'bring me up to speed.' A metallic disc appears behind him, just above his thighs, hovering at a thirty-five degree angle, and he leans back and sits on it. The disc lowers a little to the ground as it moulds around him slightly before rising back up until Dr Sivana's head is level with Clarence's chest.

Marilyn steps forward and holds out the tablet. On the screen is a hand drawn map of Egypt. 'As you know, Dr Sivana,' she says, 'as part of our research on the Middle Kingdom, Clarence and I have been working through the archives that were uncovered at the site of the old Baghdad Antiquities Museum.' She swipes the screen and shows him an image of a square building made of pale stone.

'This is the first location of the museum, set up in 1926. We had a look at the original government building that was used back in 1922 but there was nothing there.'

Dr Sivana frowns and says, his voice less croaky than before, 'There shouldn't have been anything at the 1926 site, either, surely.'

Marilyn nods and swipes at the screen a few times. 'There shouldn't have been, no, but there were a few pieces of interest.'

'But not considered important enough to have been moved?'

'I'm not sure that that would be fair to say. I think it may have been that they weren't considered to be exhibit-worthy.'

'And you think they are?'

'I think they're worth  _studying_  and are of historical interest, but I doubt they would entice anyone to come see them otherwise.'

She swipes at the screen again and shows him a photograph of several boxes containing documents. 'These look to be from a census-'

'But what has Iraq got to do with Egypt?' interrupts Dr Sivana.

'Well,' says Marilyn, 'we hit a wall until-'

'Yes, yes, my collaboration with Shugel, yes.'

'Exactly. Mr Shugel has amassed an immense number of documents and artefacts from across the world, and from these regions in particular. We found items that traced back to the cooperative excavations that were done by the British Museum and the University of Pennsylvania in Ur and others from the collaboration in Kish.'

'It's clear,' says Clarence, 'that there was some advantage taken of the lack of enforcement of the law that half the objects found were supposed to stay in Iraq.'

'The choicest of meats, eh?' sneers Dr Sivana.

'But a boon for us, Dr Sivana, even if people weren't playing by the rules.'

Marilyn nods and says, 'The world will be grateful for the expense and efforts you both put into retrieving so many of the stolen artefacts.'

Dr Sivana smirks and waves his hand dismissively. 'Have any of what has been recovered been useful for your study? The Middle Kingdom?'

Marilyn smiles and says, 'The records we've been able to retrieve are sparse for the area we're looking to explore, but we've had confirmation that there was an old village there in the early 1900s and even that the old quarry had been uncovered. From what we've seen so far, there was always a settlement there of some sort for more than three thousand years.'

'But how did it disappear?' asks Dr Sivana, and he leans forward a little and the disc moves him closer to Marilyn.

'The rumour is that there was a fight and then a sandstorm.'

'A fight?'

'In 1945, soon after Egypt declared war on Germany and Japan. A couple of nomadic tribes made mention of something happening in an area known as Idahet, close to where the village is said to be located.'

'And these records?'

Marilyn scrolls through some more images and stops on one of another map. 'It was on a map showing Nazi interests in the country. We're still trying to decipher the markings but there seem to be references to old temples and tombs.'

Dr Sivana sits back and taps the side of his head a couple of times. 'But what kind of fight would erase a village? What kind of weapon?'

'Weapon?'

Dr Sivana shrugs and says, 'The villagers would know how to deal with a sandstorm. That's their world. For them to have been wiped out somehow, it has to have involved some sort of weapon. There was a lot of weapons exploration by certain groups back then, and quite a bit of testing in the desert areas.'

'There was,' says Clarence, 'but the documents provided to us by Shugel's team are very difficult to translate.'

Dr Sivana sighs and says, 'I had hoped Shugel might have been a little more forthcoming about all this. I'm sure his team of experts have translated the material a long time ago.'

'We're working on it, Dr Sivana,' says Marilyn.

'A village near Idahet,' says Dr Sivana, softly. He begins to drift away and moves towards another table. He looks down and, in front of him, are a series of stones shaped like scarabs, each one the size of a child's fist. The note card set behind the stones says the scarabs appear to have been engraved with short prayers. He leans forward and picks up one of the scarabs. He turns in it his hands and runs a finger along a stylised lightning bolt.

'The notes you were able to obtain from Dan Garrett's estate,' says Dr Sivana, as he drifts over to another table, 'have they been able to shed any light?'

'They mainly relate to several other sites,' says Marilyn, 'but there are a number of references to this one and that there was some link to beetles and Ibis.'

Dr Sivana gestures at a large figure of a long-legged bird. 'The bird?'

'Presumably but, with him using a capital 'I', more likely something to do with Thoth, the god of knowledge with an ibis-head.'

'Of course, of course.'

'We know Garrett had already left the village before the incident-'

'Perhaps he had awakened a curse?' says Dr Sivana.

Clarence frowns and says, 'Garrett's notes go into a lot of detail on a number of superstitions, and there was a strange one about the Idahet site.'

'A strange one?'

'Something about the seventh crown being corrupted and that that was why the quarry was abandoned.'

'A disease, perhaps?'

'A disease?'

Dr Sivana shrugs and says, 'Perhaps there was a plague all those years ago and they sealed it in the tomb and abandoned the area-'

'And the ones who lived nearby all these years were guarding it?' says Marilyn, 'and then it was opened and-'

'And the desert wiped the slate clean,' says Dr Sivana. He turns and looks at Clarence and Marilyn and smiles awkwardly again. 'That pesky desert, eh?'

The door opens again and in walks a short bespectacled woman with long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She is wearing a 50s-style dress with a grey cardigan on top and brown orthopaedic shoes, and is hand in hand with a young girl who looks like a young Marilyn.

'Ah, Georgia,' says Dr Sivana, as the disc carries him over to them, 'is it time already?'

'Yes, Dr Sivana,' says Georgia, and she smiles and awkwardly pats the girl on her head.

Clarence and Marilyn share a look as they follow behind Dr Sivana.

'I hope she wasn't too much trouble, Georgia,' says Marilyn.

'Not at all, Mrs Batson. I must say, though, that I am quite keen to meet your son, Billy.'

'He's never really shared Mary's interest in Egyptology,' says Clarence.

'Mary said that he likes things like radios,' says Georgia, 'I'm sure there's plenty here that he would find fascinating.'

The Batsons turn to speak to Dr Sivana but find that he has already drifted away to the other side of the room. Georgia shakes her head and gestures towards the door.

As the Batsons leave the room, Dr Thaddeus Sivana looks down at the stone scarab in his hand and mutters 'Kaji Dha'.

* * *

Seven years ago

The floor and ceiling of the room are white and, with the almost-bare large white desk in the middle of the room and smaller tables placed throughout, the room looks sterile. Although the room is long, it appears to be quite narrow and is made to seem even more so by the white walls at either end. The long wall to the left of the desk is lined with screens silently displaying news broadcasts and financial analysis, while to the right of the desk and, by contrast, making the room feel immense, is floor-to-ceiling glass the length of the room, offering a wide view of Fawcett City.

Sitting in a chair in front of the desk, dressed in jeans and a yellow shirt and holding a fluffy toy tiger, is a small dark-haired boy.

A bald man dressed in a crisp charcoal suit with a blue tie stands behind the desk. There are some wrinkles around his eyes and mouth but it is difficult to determine how old he is. He seems to shimmer slightly but the boy does not notice.

'It breaks my heart to give you this news, Billy,' says the man, 'it truly does, but I felt that it was my duty to do so.'

He places a package on the desk and slides it towards Billy.

'This… this was supposed to be your birthday present. Because of their work… I know they didn't want it to be this way but there were so many difficulties, so many legal wrangles, and they knew they wouldn't be able to be here for it, so I… I promised them that I would give it to  _you_.'

Billy looks at the package and says, 'But it's not-'

'I know, my dear boy, and I'm truly sorry. Your parents… your sister…'

Billy looks up at the man and tilts his head a little. 'I don't understand, sir.'

'They're gone, Billy.'

'On the expedition, I know,' says Billy, and he smiles. 'They promised to take me to the Air and Space Museum when they get back.'

'No, Billy, they're…' The words hang in the air and the man turns away and shimmers again.

Billy frowns and turns his head to look at the screens on the wall. Several of them display news of unrest in Egypt.

'The world is not as safe a place as I wish it was,' says the man. He walks towards the screens and gestures at the footage from different parts of the world. 'I set up my company a long time ago in order to find ways to help people, and I believed that some of the solutions we need can be found in the past.'

Billy stands. He looks at the package on the desk and then turns to look at the bald man as he continues speaking.

'"Gerard", I used to say to myself, "you're a man of science, not ancient history", and then your parents came into my life. So much energy and eagerness. It was so refreshing. Magical.'

He walks back to the desk and looks at Billy.

'I was around your age when found myself alone. It was a long time ago and the world was quite different then.'

Billy holds out his stuffed tiger and says, 'I'm never alone with Mister Tawky Tawny with me, Mr Shugel.'

'Quite, Billy. Quite.' He waves his hand over the top of the desk and a holographic image of a building appears. It looks like a school or an old hospital. 'I know you're staying with Ms Primm at the moment but, with what has happened, you  _will_  have to stay here for a while. At least until we either find your uncle or make some other arrangement.'

'Ms Primm doesn't want to look after me anymore?'

'Oh, quite the opposite, Billy. It's just… legally…'

'It's complicated?'

Shugel smiles and nods.

'She doesn't feel gone,' says Billy.

'What do you mean?'

'Mary.' Billy looks at his stuffed tiger and then hugs it tightly against his chest. He then lets go and looks up at Shugel. 'Are you… are you sure, sir?'

'I'm sorry, Billy. I can't give you any more details at the moment but something happened at their excavation site. My people… we're doing everything we ca-'

Billy sniffs and quickly brushes away a tear.

Shugel steps back a little and tugs on his shirt cuffs. He looks very uncomfortable. 'I didn't know your parents for very long,' he says, 'but I will do right by them. You'll be staying at the orphanage for a little while and I've enrolled you at Binder School. I know you were being home-schooled for a long time and Ms Pimm had continued with that, but I think this may be better for you, for now.'

'When will the funeral be, sir?' Billy whispers.

Shugel places his hands on the desk and crouches down a little. 'That's complicated, too, Billy. A lot of people are missing at the moment.'

Billy looks over at the screens again and then walks towards them. 'They always loved Egypt and the Middle East and all that stuff,' he says, 'didn't they, Mr Tawny? Mary, too.'

Billy lets his tears flow for a little while and Shugel stands to one side and waits.

'I can never  _forget_  meeting your sister, Billy,' says Shugel. 'She was so excited to be going on the expedition.'

Billy nods and looks at the floor. 'Yeah, she was.'

'I'm sorry.'

Billy sniffs and pats at his eyes with his right sleeve. He sniffs again and turns to Shugel. 'What's going to happen if you can't find my uncle?'

'That's difficult to say, Billy.  _We_  have assured Social Services that we're taking care of things for now, but they may want to… take charge. It is  _ever_  the way that they are.

Shugel walks back to the desk and picks up the package, shimmering again as he does so. He carries it over to Billy and gives it to him.

'I'm glad we finally  _met_ , Billy. We'll get you through this.'

Shugel steps back and gestures at the bank of television screens and they part just wide enough for Billy to step through. As the wall closes again, Billy glances back and sees Shugel turn away.

Alone in the room, Shugel flickers and disappears as a hole opens in the middle of the white floor and another Shugel rises up, standing on a white platform that precisely fits the hole. The new Shugel takes a small tablet from the wall of screens and waits a couple of seconds as it scans his face and fingers. An image appears on the screen and he sighs and flicks at the wall behind the desk. Large pictures of various tablets scroll across the wall and Shugel frowns as he looks at them.

The images stop moving and one of tablet with a border made of a series of scarab beetles, lightning bolts and wings fills the wall. A translation scrolls across the wall and, reading it, Shugel harrumphs.

_In blood they are bound and the gifts shall pass._

* * *

4 years ago

_Binder School_

Two older boys, both in their mid-teens, push young Billy Batson into a row of lockers in a changing room and punch the metal doors of the lockers on either side of his head. They are both dressed in sportswear, although one is wearing an American football shirt and the other is wearing basketball shorts.

'You think you're something special, Batson?' growls the one in the football shirt.

'It's a freakin' podcast, you reckon anyone actually listens to your rubbish?' snarls the other.

Billy shrugs. 'Apparently, you two did.' He grins at them and it looks like he has a molar missing.

'Smart mouth,' says football-boy. He pokes Billy's chest with his finger. 'He's got a smart mouth.'

'Baby mouth, more like,' says basketball-boy. 'Still doesn't have all his teeth.'

Football-boy shoves Billy again and says, 'Be happy to even yer mouth out for ya.'

'Look, guys, you both know that what you've been doing is wrong,' says Billy. He holds up his hands and tries to step forward.

The basketball-boy leans in and says, through grit teeth, 'What we're doing is  _smart_ , Batson. You're too dumb to understand that.'

'Hey!' shouts another boy. He stands in the doorway and places his backpack on the floor.

'Go home, Freeman,' says football-boy. 'You'll thank us later.'

'I think it's best that you both leave him be and go home yourselves,' says the boy.

'Or what, Fwed-er-wick?' says basketball-boy.

'Yeah,' says football-boy, 'you're eleven. What d'you think yer gonna do?'

Freddy steps further into the changing room and shakes his head. 'You know how this went down last time.'

He steps to the side and grins as a teacher steps into the doorway, shaking their head.

* * *

3 years ago

_I have journeyed across an ocean of stars to reach you…_

General Zod's voice fades and the shaky news footage of the Black Zero next to the moon cuts to Billy Batson looking earnestly at the camera.

'Yesterday,' says Billy, 'the world changed. Yesterday, we learned that we are not alone. Today, we're afraid.

'I didn't record anything before because I wanted to make sure. Many don't believe this is actually happening and that the broadcast heard across the world is a hoax. I've looked through the telescope and seen it up there, but I still wonder if it's true.

'Right now, though, all I can say is: Holy Moly.'

* * *

'The internet's messed up, so there's no live streaming from me and I don't know if I can upload this podcast anytime soon, but I know that I have to record this.'

* * *

'People are panicking here in Fawcett City as footage from Metropolis shows a massive honest-to-goodness spaceship hovering over the financial district.'

The shaky camera focuses on a television screen showing the Black Zero in and above Metropolis. There are screams as a blast strikes the ground in the city below.

'Billy, c'mon, we've got to run!' says a young male voice.

'But Metropolis is miles away,' complains a female voice.

'Hurry, children, let's get to the shelter.'

* * *

'I know a lot of you out there are scared after what has happened. I'm scared, too. Scared and grieving, but I'm hopeful, as well.

'I get that some of my listeners and viewers will think me to be naïve but just listen to this brief interview. Listen and watch:

"I'm here to help," says Superman. He looks harried and keeps glancing around and squinting now and then. Numerous cuts cross-mark his face and there is a bruise on his forehead and under his left eye.

"Help?" asks a reporter.

"I don't know how, only that the things I can do – the gifts that I have – they're to help."

"Did you ever consider how the world would react to… well, to you?"

"All the time. This… none of this is the way I wanted things to be, but the truth is I never knew how to make myself known. How to come forward."

"And now?"

Superman steps back a little and the crowd of reporters surges forward. "Like I said, I'm here to help. We'll figure it out, one day at a time."

"We?"

He looks sad but he smiles a little, briefly, and says, "You, me, the world. We're all in this together."

* * *

1 and a half years ago

Lex Luthor stands on the stage at  _The Shugel Advancement Trust Charity Auction_  held at the newly opened West Wing of the Natural History Museum in Metropolis.

'And that's why we're here today. Here, where hundreds of pieces of the history of mankind show us how we came together time and time again and grew from strength to strength. Here where, though part of me doesn't want to, we will divide these treasures in order to bring people back together again.

'I can see I've spoken a little longer than I should have, and I apologise for that. I'm going to chalk it up to grief and just ask you all to bid highly, dig deeply and help bring about a new and better tomorrow.'

The crowd – from guests to wait-staff to the musicians and so on – applaud and Lex smiles and descends from the stage.

* * *

'It's been an honour to attend,' says Billy, and he holds up the camera so that his viewers can see the people and exhibits in the room behind him. 'I never got the chance to meet Mr Shugel but his foundation has done so much for me since my parents were lost. I don't know where I would be if the foundation had never existed. Maybe on the streets. Maybe dead. All I know is that I'm grateful and hope to pay it forward.'

He gestures at the people and says, 'A lot of the people here don't realise the difference they can make. They're reluctant to, and that's a shame.'

* * *

Standing under a sign that says " _We Can All Be Heroes_ ", Billy holds up a batarang and says, 'I borrowed this from a friend. It's his prized possession, given to him by his Dad. He says The Batman saved him once – his father – when he was in Gotham.'

* * *

A stormy night sky shows a bat symbol shimmering on a cloud. The camera shakes and then steadies as it is set down and Billy steps in front.

'Metropolis and Gotham seem to be where everything is happening. First The Batman and then Superman. Now both of them, together.

'The Bat Signal was lit up over Gotham, only this time as a call to arms against The Man of Steel. Years ago, The Batman disappeared. My parents never really told me many stories about him. Truth is they were gone before I ever really had an interest in him. I was more into tigers and dinosaurs and magic and technology and things like that, but I did have a toy Batmobile.'

* * *

Aerial footage shows an armoured Batman on a rooftop walking towards Superman.

'We are still trying to get the sound back,' says a male voice, 'but we can see that Superman is on his knees.'

* * *

Aerial footage shows Superman and Wonder Woman battling Doomsday and, finally, the three of them victorious.

* * *

'From what I've been hearing,' says Billy, 'The Batman believed, somehow, that Superman was… well, was evil. That he wanted to hurt us. Maybe even rule over us.

'Batman was wrong, but… but people agree with him.

'There's fear out there now.  More than before. But I think… I think there's hope, too. That's what I'm holding on to. The Power of Hope.'

* * *

11 months ago

_G. Gordon Godfrey Has This To Say_

The camera pulls back from the sign and moves over to Godfrey as he walks over to a large desk, behind which is a wide, blank, television screen. He stops in front of the leather desk chair and looks at the camera as he slowly sits down and leans forward. The camera zooms in until Godfrey's head and shoulders fill the screen.

'Giant. Starfish. From space.'

He leans back and holds up his hands.

'I'll let that sink in for a moment. I'll let you think about it.'

He turns slightly, looking away from the camera, and skips his fingers over the desk top. He looks at the camera again and raises an eyebrow.

'Are we really supposed to believe this rubbish?'

Smoothly and quickly, he sits squarely and says, 'Are you really going to fall for this as these "heroes" slowly take over the world? Are we  _humans_  really going to take a back seat?' He leans forward and says, almost snarling, 'Are we setting aside our Manifest Destiny?'

The television screen behind him flickers and Godfrey kicks back a little and moves out of the way of the display of a giant purple one-eyed starfish. It is so massive that one of its tentacles easily wraps around an aircraft carrier.

'A giant starfish from space  _mind controlling_  us with lots of little starfish. Star. Fish. But thank goodness for the Justice League?'

Images of people in streets and villages throughout the world flit across the screen, and almost every person in the images has a small purple starfish on their face. Another series of images show the starfish strewn on the ground as people look around themselves, dazed.

'A  _league._  I'll let you think about that, too. A league. An alliance. But not with us. We never signed up to this. We don't know who these people are. Our purported protectors, saving us from intergalactic seafood while allowing gangs and drugs and wars and all sorts to keep on going on in our cities. On our streets.'

He leans back and places his hand behind his head as he looks up and away from the camera. 'I keep wondering what I would do if I had the abilities these… beings have. What I would do to help. What it would be like to swoop down and save people from being trafficked, or change the course of a mighty river and provide water to a parched land.'

He sits up straight again and sighs. 'The things I could do to change the world.'

He taps on the desk again and suddenly stands up.

'Our world is not our own anymore. Amazons and Atlanteans and Kryptonians and all sorts of things falling from the sky and rising up from the sea. What about  _us_?'

* * *

_A park in Fawcett City_

'Billy Batson,' says a deep voice. Billy looks up at the sky and gapes as Superman gently floats down to the ground. His cape dances in the wind and he catches it and pulls it a little closer as he looks around. A little way away, people stop what they are doing and gawp. Some pull out their phones while others nervously edge closer.

Billy unfolds the note he had been holding and then refolds and it and holds it out for Superman to take. Superman smiles, shakes his head, and asks if he can sit down.

'It'll give us a little more time to talk,' he says, as he glances at the people in the park. Billy quickly gets up and dusts the park bench and, hands shaking, sits back down.

'I haven't been to Fawcett City in quite a while,' says Superman. He cocks his head a little and his eyes flicker. 'It's quieter than Metropolis.'

'It is,' says Billy, nodding, 'and it's home.'

Superman smiles and takes in a breath. He exhales slowly and looks at his hands. 'I got your letter, Billy.  _The Daily Planet_  gave it to me.'

Billy's face reddens a little and he says, 'I didn't think that would work.'

'I'll be honest with you, son, it almost didn't.' He turns his head slightly to look at Billy. 'I don't say that to be mean, it's just that, well, I get a lot of letters.'

'Some pretty crazy ones, I bet,' says Billy, smiling a little.

'A  _lot_  of crazy ones.'

'Like mine.'

Superman turns a little more towards Billy. 'Yours wasn't crazy, Billy. Yours… I get a lot like yours, too, and with some… with some I can help put things right.'

Billy's shoulders slump and he looks away. 'I understand.'

'I'm sorry. Maybe… maybe if I had… when it had happened, maybe then. I went to the places you mentioned. I spoke to some people out there and they showed me where it happened and I looked and searched but all I could find…'

He reaches under his cape, behind his back, and brings out a package wrapped in cloth and hands it to Billy to open. Inside is a battered leather satchel with the initials 'C.C.B.' etched on it. For a long moment, Billy stares at it as it sits in his lap.

'It's okay, Billy,' says Superman, softly. 'Breathe.'

Billy swallows and nods and slowly presses on the clasp. He pulls the satchel upright and tugs it open. Inside are several notebooks and a small framed photograph of the four members of the Batson family grinning at the camera. In the photograph, Billy is wearing his father's fedora.

'I truly am sorry, Billy.'

Billy's fingers tighten around the frame and he shudders and whistles a little as takes in a breath. 'Thank you for bringing these to me,' he says, his voice thick. He swallows dryly.

'I know you're hurting-'

Billy squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. 'No, sir,' he says, his voice croaking a little. 'I've had time to be ready.'

Superman turns away slightly and looks down at the grass in front of them. 'It's not the same, Billy. I know. I know you have questions. I'm hoping some of them can be answered in these.'

They sit there, silent, for a few minutes as people edge closer and gesture at the screens on their phones and tablets. Finally, Superman stands and turns to Billy.

'If you ever need to talk,' he says, 'if I'm ever not around, reach out for Clark Kent at  _The_   _Daily Planet_. He'll gladly listen.'

Billy nods and Superman steps back. He looks at the growing crowd and gives them a small wave as he slowly rises into the air.

Billy holds the satchel tightly to his chest and looks up as Superman flies away.

'Thank you, Superman,' he whispers.

* * *

A few months ago

_Somewhere_

Machines beep and pulse and a young woman with short blonde hair stands stiffly by the bedside of a very old man.

'You will continue my work?' whispers the old man.

'Of course, grandfather,' says the woman.

'Your father never understood,' coughs the old man.

'He never needed to, grandfather. You have me.'

'Ah, Katrina,' sighs the old man, and he then speaks in German, 'if only the energies had returned sooner and I could have seen my brother again.'

'I will tell him everything you did for him, grandfather. He will know.'

* * *

A few weeks ago

The large bedroom is furnished with four large wooden beds – three in a row, with two against the walls on the left and right side of the room, and the fourth along the wall with the door. There are also four desks and four wardrobes. A dozen pairs of shoes of various sizes line the wall adjacent to the door and a couple of the beds, while neatly made, are covered with clothes. Stacks of books about Ancient Egypt litter the floor around one of the beds, with more books lined along a windowsill.

Billy sits on the edge of his bed and turns a page in one of the journals from the satchel. He squints at the scratchy handwriting and brushes over the words with his fingers. Some of the text is clear to read, however a lot of it looks more like a scrawl. Billy smiles and shakes his head a little. He then reads:

_Dan Garrett's writings about the Scarab just raise more questions about what he possibly found. The 'locals' here are mostly Bedouin and know these sands intimately, but they are wary of showing us the location of the old excavation site. We know there used to be a quarry there – there are ancient records showing that – but we don't know why it was abandoned and none of them here trust us enough to tell us what happened during the war._

_According to Garrett, something happened here thousands of years ago and it centred around someone called Teth-Adam. Marylin's found nothing anywhere about this person. Was he a king? A priest? Why would Garrett think he had lived for over 200 years? Who is Katar Hol? How does the goddess Isis factor into this?_

He turns the page and looks at a drawing of Thoth with a head of an ibis.

_The references to 'Ibis' make no sense. Garrett knew the bird was a symbol and not a name._

_We have so many questions and are nowhere near finding any answers._

_Symbols of lightning and beetles and birds and no context for any of them._

The next page has a small picture of the Batson family attached to it, and the following words:

_Mary has been restless lately. We all miss Billy._

Billy pauses and takes a long breath as he looks at the four words and whispers them a few times.

_Trust is key and, often, an element in gaining trust is patience. Our patience has borne fruit. They're going to take us to the site._

A few pages seem stuck together and, reluctantly, Billy leaves them as they are and moves forward through the journal.

_The glyphs speak of a war but there is something before that, about a union with lightning._

* * *

A few weeks ago

_Idahet, Egypt_

A green-sleeved fist punches out of a mountain of sand and rock. The sound of splitting rock reverberates around the empty ravine and a dark crack cuts through the oranges and reds of the stone. A man-sized boulder tumbles forward and a blond man dressed in a green military uniform stumbles out of the hole. Purple energy fizzles around him and dissipates.

He staggers a little and shakes his head.

'You think,' he mumbles in German, 'your stick can protect you, Ibis? You think… you think you… you can take my eyes…'

He stands in a boxer's stance, blinks rapidly and tilts his head left and right. He edges forward and slowly turns in a circle, testing the ground with the balls of his feet.

'Say something, you snivelling corpse. Say something!'

There is a low hum and he twists and throws a right cross, but he hits nothing and stumbles forward instead.

'Albrecht Krieger,' says a robotic voice. 'Welcome back.'

* * *

Thunder rumbles through the sky and powerful winds tug on trees and flags and awnings. At the Binder School, Billy stares out of a window and watches the rain.

'Thought you went home ages ago,' says Freddy. He holds his arms wide and grins as, soaked, he drips all over the floor.

Billy glances at him, shrugs, and shakes his head. 'Was going to,' he says, 'but didn't fancy going out in the rain.'

'Don't blame you.' Freddy shoulders his bag and squelches over to Billy. 'Gramps is coming to pick me up if you fancy a ride.'

Billy continues to look out the window and says, 'Sure.'

'Billy? You okay?'

Billy's shoulders slump and he leans forward and rests his forehead against the window. He sighs and his breath steams the glass. 'Every day I keep thinking  _today's the day_  but I have to stop doing that now.'

'Billy…'

He turns slightly, his head still pressed against the glass, and holds up his father's satchel. 'Superman tried.'

'Superman?' says Freddy, confused.

'He came to see me.' He moves his head away from the window and sits on the narrow windowsill. He lets the strap loosen in his hand and the satchel slides down and swings just above the floor.

Freddy gapes and then, still stunned, shakes his head and says, 'Why didn't you say anything?'

Billy shrugs and pulls the satchel up and places it next to himself. 'He looked. He didn't have to but he looked and he couldn't find them. I have to accept that they're not coming back, don't I?'

Freddy shakes his head and says, 'There's still a chance.'

'Maybe. But it's been seven years. Legally, now…'

Freddy nudges him and says, 'It was  _you_  on the bench with him. All the videos had blurry footage.'

'Yeah, it was me,' Billy whispers.

Freddy slides down the wall and sits on the floor. 'I'm sorry,' says Freddy, 'I was just trying to make you think of something else.'

'I know,' says Billy. 'It's okay.'

'What are you going to do?'

'I don't know, Freddy,' Billy whispers. He turns to look out of the window again and Freddy grunts and gets up from the floor. 'I don't know.'

Silent, both boys stand in front of the window and watch the rain.

'I know it's easy for me to say,' says Freddy, 'but you have to know it's true: we're here for you. All of us.'

'I'm here for you, too.'

'I'm gonna be jealous forever now, you know that, too, right?'

'It was almost a year ago.'

' _A year!_  You kept that from me for a  _year_?!'

'I'm sorry. When I got the note, I thought it was a prank or something, but I hoped and-'

'A year. All this time… who  _are_  you?'

'I'm sorry.'

'You met Superman.'

Billy smiles. 'I met Superman.'

'What was he like?'

'Tall. Really tall.'

'Did he..?'

'He flew.'

* * *

Somewhere

'The world is not how you once knew it,' says Katrina. 'It is not how you had hoped it would be. How you had strived for it to be.'

Albrecht Krieger lies on a gurney as mechanical arms buzz and whir around his head.

'Those who would be masters have been forced into the shadows. For decades, they have had to pretend to be less than what they are. The world now… ah, the world now… the arrogance of the inferiors.

'They need leadership, my friend. They need you.'

* * *

Now

Billy paces in front of his bed and flicks through one of the journals from the satchel as the wind howls outside. He places it on his desk, picks up another one from his bed, and turns to a page he had bookmarked earlier. Lightning brightens the room for a split second as Billy reads.

_One of the villagers says that Ibis was an actual person. That he was a prince of Egypt. There is no record of this but the villager is insistent. She says he was married to Taia and was renowned for his being fair._

_Is this why Garrett kept referring to the name?_

_What did the villager mean when she kept referring to 'Vlarem'?_

_I don't have reason to doubt her. Her knowledge on other areas of the ancient history marries with ours, so perhaps she knows things we haven't yet learned about?_

Lost in thought, with the journal dangling from his fingertips, Billy watches the storm outside. 'Vlarem,' he whispers.

Lightning lances across the sky and strikes the wrought iron gates below. Billy gasps as one of the lights mounted on the gate pillars explodes. As he watches the strange glow slowly fade, something catches his eye. Outside the gates, at the edge of area illuminated by the remaining light. Billy leans forward and wipes the condensation from the window. He looks out again and frowns as he sees what appears to be a man dressed in a trench coat and wearing a fedora.

Lightning lights up the sky again and Billy squints at the dark figure.

'Dad?'


	3. Say My Name

'Billy Batson, where do you think-'

The rest of the words were lost to the wind as Billy ran outside and into the heavy rain.  Within seconds, his clothes were drenched and clung to him.  The light from the doorway shrank away as the door slowly closed.  With his heart thudding in his ears, Billy squinted at the large metal gates at the end of the drive and wiped the rain from his face.

Waves of thunder rumbled in the sky above and the dark night lit up briefly as a series of lightning bolts tore across it.  Blinking through the rain, Billy was sure he could still see the fedora-wearing figure but he slowed to a jog as the last sliver of light from the doorway vanished and he began to wonder about how foolish he was being.  A bolt of lightning suddenly struck a lamppost just past the twelve-foot high wall bordering the orphanage grounds and bathed the area in a yellow-white light.

On the other side of the gates, the fedora-wearing figure turned and began to walk away.

'Dad,' Billy whispered.  He grit his teeth and started to run again.  On the left of the gates were thick bushes that blocked access to the wall while on the right were a series of large trees.  Beyond the drumming of the raindrops and the smell of wet grass and tarmac, he heard the gates hiss and sizzle and smelled burnt air and metal.  Alarmed but resolute, Billy dashed towards a tree near the wall, clambered up the slick trunk and threw his hands up to grab hold of the edge of the wall.

Seconds later, fingers sore and palms stinging, he slid down the other side of the wall and landed on the pavement just as a bolt of lightning hit the tree.

Billy yelled and dove forward.  He rolled through a large puddle of water and came to a kneeling stop.  Behind the wall, the tree smoked and crackled as flames licked the trunk.

'I'm so stupid,' Billy whispered.  'So stupid.'

He slowly stood as he turned and looked up the road, searching for the fedora-wearing figure.  He stepped forward, towards the gate, and leaned into the heavy rain, willing it to slow down so he could see at least a little clearer.  Then, in the blurry distance, he saw the figure pause again and Billy ran as fast as he could.

Far behind, as he sloshed through the puddles, he heard someone shout his name again and ignored it.

'Dad!' he roared.

Lightning briefly lit up the sky again and the figure stopped a couple of steps down the stairs of a street entrance to a subway station.  Closer now, Billy saw that the figure didn't seem to be affected by the rain.  The collar of its trench coat was down and his shoulders were relaxed.  It reached up and lifted the fedora a few inches off its head and Billy's heart raced when he saw the jawline he had long stared at on old photographs.  The figure then turned and continued down the stairs.

Soaked and shivering, Billy stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down into the flickering darkness of the access tunnel.  His chest tightened and he felt heat behind his eyes as he thought to himself, 'Why are you doing this, Dad?'

Determined to find out what was going on, he grabbed on to the handrail and ran down the stairs two at a time before coming to a stop at the bottom.

The entrance opened up to a wide tunnel that gently sloped downwards before rising back up again to the entrance to the other side of the road above.  Mosaics decorated the walls, depicting some of the history of the local area.  Across from the stairs Billy had descended were another set leading back up to the road.  There was a gentle drip-drip sound along the tunnel and, although Billy could see rain batter the top of the stairs when he glanced back up them, the tunnel was otherwise quiet.

'This is crazy,' Billy whispered.

He turned into the tunnel and his shoes squeaked on the wet floor as he slowly walked forward.  The flickering he had seen from the top of the stairs came from two ceiling lights at either end of the tunnel.  In the middle of the tunnel was a reddish darkness that reminded him of a photographer's dark room he had seen in a movie.  The ceiling lights flickered and blinked and made it seem as if the figures in the mosaics were moving along the walls.

The middle of the tunnel, to the left of the reddish darkness, opened up to a ticket hall, with several other tunnels branching off it, each one leading off to another access point to the road above.  No station workers were present and the lights to the station office were off.  At the end of the ticket hall were a row of open turnstiles and, beyond them, were two inactive escalators, one on either side of a staircase leading down to the platforms.

'Hello?' said Billy.  His voice echoed around the ticket hall and the walls seemed to shimmer.  As the echo faded, he heard a beeping noise from the platforms below.

Billy took in a deep breath and hurried through one of the turnstiles.  He stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down.  A soft blue and green glow highlighted the benches that lined the middle of the platform, dividing it in two.  To the right, just at the edge of the glow, Billy could see the open doors to a train carriage.  A yellow light on the side of the doors blinked in time to the beeping sound.  He looked over to the left and saw blackness at the edge of the platform. 

'This is really crazy,' he whispered, and then stepped forward and made his way down the stairs.

Aged posters were plastered along the walls, depicting productions of old plays and circus performances, condiments and drinks, old television shows and Whiz radio.  When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw that the floor was made of large ornately patterned tiles that used to be bordered white, blue, red or yellow but were now faded and dusty, and cracked and crumbling.

A ceiling mural stretched from the darkness at the top of the stairs, down and along the arched ceiling on either side of the platform area, and across to the pitch black at the other end of the long platform.  The mural displayed historical and mythical events from across the world and from different civilisations, with each image separated from the next by various symbols.  The blue and green glow that bathed the benches and – as Billy had now seen - notice boards along the middle of the platform appeared to be from the sky and water scenes on the ceiling.

Billy shook his head as he turned away from the ceiling.  He stumbled a little and blinked away the images from the murals that danced in his vision.  As his vision cleared, he looked along the platform and gasped.  The fedora-wearing figure was casually walking along the right-hand platform.  Before he could take in anything more from his surroundings, Billy saw the fedora-wearing figure step on to the train.  The beeping sound became faster and there was a soft hiss as the doors began to close.

'Oh no you don't,' Billy muttered, and he dashed to the nearest door and leapt on to the train.

Lights flickered in the carriage and the train shuddered and jerked.  Billy grabbed on to the nearest handrail and tried to steady himself.  He looked along the carriage and saw, through the windows in the doors leading to the adjoining carriages, that the fedora-wearing figure was several carriages down.  The train jerked again and began to move.

Lights flickered on the walls of the tunnel and shouts and cries filled the carriage.  Startled, Billy looked around and saw images projected on to the tunnel walls.  Slaves rowing boats, prisoners kneeling in front of pits and trenches, huge slabs of stone being manoeuvred, pirates attacking ships, temples being burned, horses galloping through fields, and smoke filling the sky.

'What the heck is going on?' he wondered aloud.

The train jerked violently and Billy lost his grip on the handrail and fell to the floor.  The shouts and cries became rumbles of thunder and the roars of huge fires, and then, suddenly, with the sound of crashing waves, the train stopped beside a dark platform and the doors beeped and hissed open.

Billy pushed himself onto his feet and, with shaky legs, made his way to the door.  There was no mural at this platform and no tiled floor.  The walls were rough and rocky and the ceiling was high above the top of the train.  There were small alcoves along the wall of the platform, with small stone benches tucked in each of them.  He poked his head through the doorway and looked to the right and waited for the fedora-wearing figure to step off, but the platform remained empty.  After what felt like a minute, Billy took a tentative step off the train, and nothing happened.  When he stepped off completely the train hissed and seemed to settle.  The blinking yellow lights became dark and everything fell silent.

'Hello?' said Billy.

There was no response, so Billy stuck is hand in the open doorway and turned to look at the other end of the train.

_It's him_ , he heard something whisper.  It was a male voice and sounded old and tired.

_Do you think?_ said another voice.  This one sounded like a young female, around Billy’s age, and Billy felt like the air around him was twinkling.

_It has to be.  It's certainly not_ him _.  Not looking like that._   The twinkling faded and was replaced by a musty smell.

_He's so quiet_ , said a third voice.  The musty smell became one of freshly mown grass and, involuntarily, Billy took in a long breath through his nose.

_Yeah,_ he _wasn't so it's definitely not him_ , said the second voice.

_Not him_ , said a fourth voice.  It was a female voice that sounded even more tired than the first voice.

_I like this one_.

'Hello,' Billy said again.  'I can hear you talking.'

_There you go_ , said the first voice.

_Exactly.  If he can hear us then it has to be him_ , said the third voice.

_Wait,_ said a fifth voice, _which him?_   The mown grass smell of the third voice was replaced by a smoky aroma and a strange heat.

_Him_ , said the fourth voice, _not_ him.

'This isn't funny,' said Billy.

_Serious_ , said the second voice.  _Very serious_.

Billy dashed to the next carriage and popped his head through the open doorway.  The carriage was empty, as was the next.

_You won't find what you're looking for there_ , said the third voice.

_No, certainly not there_ , said the fourth voice.  It sounded amused.

_Come here_ , said the second voice.

_This is where you should be_ , said the first voice, softly.

_Can you feel the rhythm?_ asked the third voice.

_I don't think he believes us_ , said the fourth voice.

_Oh, that's not good_ , said the second voice.

'Please,' Billy said loudly, 'I don't understand what's happening here.'

The voices fell silent and Billy waited.

A blue light appeared a little further along the platform.  After a few seconds, the light turned green.

Billy looked back at the carriage he had arrived in and then along the rest of the platform.  He stepped forward and started walking towards the green light and saw that there was a large opening in the rocky wall.

'Hello?' he shouted.

The opening lead to a tunnel that was wide enough to comfortably allow three adults to walk through side by side.  The walls were smoother than the platform’s but still quite rough.  Billy lightly placed his right hand against the wall and walked along the tunnel as it turned and curved.

Bolts of lightning, scarabs, and wings littered the wall, a little higher than Billy's chest. 

‘These markings,’ Billy whispered, ‘they’re like the ones in Dad’s notebooks.  What the heck is going on?’

A large crack cut through a part of the wall and Billy saw that a carving of an open-palmed outstretched hand had somehow been broken while still remaining fixed to the wall.

As he continued along the passageway he found that it opened up to a wider tunnel with a ceiling so high it looked like there were stars twinkling in it.  Along the left side of the tunnel, a long shelf had been gouged out of the wall.  On the shelf were several misshapen statues, and, underneath each statue, were a series of engravings.

The first statue was of a figure with its eyes closed and its arms crossed over its chest.  Billy crouched down a little in order to look at the engravings and saw that one of them seemed to be readable: _superbia_.

The next statue was of a figure that seemed to a looking at something from behind its hand.  The inscription Billy could read beneath it said _invidia_.

The third statue seemed to be clawing things towards itself.

Strange images danced began to dance around him and Billy quickly stepped away from the statue and shook his head of them as he made his way past the four remaining statues.

The tunnel opened up to a circular chamber around the size of the empty ticket office at the subway station.  A beam of light cut through the blackness of the ceiling and struck the middle of a massive raised circular platform made of a single piece of stone.  Beyond the light, at the edge of the platform sat a stone throne.  Billy stepped forward and squinted a little.  In the throne, shrouded in darkness, was something wrapped in cloth.

'Aspádzomai.’  The bundle of cloth moved.  ‘Salve.  Svāgatam.’  It seemed to expand and fill.  ‘Ẹ ku abọ.  Fùnyìhng.’  The bundle rose and slid off the seat of the throne.  ‘Huānyíng guānglín.  AsSalaam.’

‘Just a trick,’ Billy whispered.  ‘Just a creepy trick.’ 

‘Bienvenue.   Willkommen.  Welcome, Billy Batson.'

A tall old man dressed in dirty white robes stepped into the light.  He leaned on a staff and the stylised bolt of lightning sitting on top of it crackled.  He had a white beard that fell past his chest and his white hair fell past his shoulders.

Billy quickly looked around and saw nothing that could explain how the old man had appeared.  Unnerved, with his heart pounding in his ears, he quickly clenched and unclenched his fists as he took in a long breath through his nose.

'What is this place?' he asked, and he stepped back towards the passageway in the wall.  He wanted to ask how the old man knew his name but then decided it was best to say as little as he could.

'My home.'  The old man’s voice sounded tired and, despite his anxiousness, Billy wanted to ask him if he was okay.

Billy glanced back and saw that it looked as if he had walked in a straight line… and that the train had disappeared.  The platform was still there but the train had somehow left without making a sound.

Alarmed, Billy turned to the old man and shouted, 'What's going on?  Where did that man go?'

The old man ignored Billy's questions and stepped forward a little.  'I have seen how your life has been, Billy,' he said.  His voice was soothing and Billy imagined that, perhaps, his grandfather may have sounded a little like it if he had been alive.  'I have seen the hope you hold on to and the hope you inspire.'

Billy frowned.  '“Inspire”?'

'You think your words have fallen on deaf ears?  That your actions have gone unnoticed?'

'I don't know what you mean, sir.'

'You have uncovered and spoken about evil.  At your school, perhaps, but still evil.  You have stood up against bullies.  You have encouraged people.  People around you have seen you and heard you, Billy.  You have inspired them, even in small ways.'

Pride stirred in Billy’s chest but he quickly pushed it aside and focussed on the old man and the strange room.  'Thanks, I guess,' he said.

Bits of stone lay strewn on the floor.  Some pieces were bigger than Billy but it was clear that there used to be other thrones set around the stone platform.

The old man sighed and leaned heavily against his staff.  His brow relaxed and his head tilted forward a little, and Billy wondered if, perhaps, he had fallen asleep.

'This is some great cosplay,' Billy whispered aloud.

The old man looked up and took in a deep breath.  'Billy, do you believe in magic?'

Billy frowned again, confused and surprised by the question.  'I don't know,’ he said.  ‘I believe amazing things happen.  I've seen a man fly, but I don't know if that's magic.'

The old man smiled and said, 'It is and it is not.  The gifts held by the one you speak of are, as you say, amazing, but they are not magic in our sense.'

'"Our sense"?'

'In… my sense.'  The old man stood a little straighter and held his arms out a little wider.  'I,' he said, 'am a wizard, Billy.'

Billy nodded and stepped back.  'Oh-kay,' he said.

'An aged one.'

'So that guy with the fedora?' asked Billy.

The old man frowned and tilted his head to the right.  'Hmm?'

'The person I followed down into the subway.'

'Ah,’ said the old man.  He turned away slightly and, for an instant, Billy wondered if he was ashamed.  ‘The one who reminded you of your father.'

'"Reminded…"?'  Billy felt his cheeks redden.

The old man nodded and Billy’s heart raced when he saw the sadness in his eyes.  'I am sorry, Billy.'

'I don't understand.'

'What you saw was the manifestation of a spell.  A summoning.'

'Summoning what?'

'You.' 

Billy quickly crouched down and scooped up a piece of rubble, grazing his knuckles as he did so.  He ignored the pain and chambered his arm, ready to throw the stone at the old man and run if he needed to.

‘The spell was created by an old friend of mine,’ said the old man, ‘to find the right person and bring them here if I was unable to do so myself.  I had not realised that the conditions of its casting had been met.’

'Why am I here?'

'Because the world needs you.'

Billy relaxed his arm a little but continued holding up the stone.  'Is this some sort of climate change thing,’ he said, ‘because I assure you that I do believe it and try to do what I can.'

'There are changes coming, Billy, because magic is returning.  Atlan's trident has been claimed, the Princess has stepped forward and the shards of Babylon have started to be gathered.

‘There are many things happening, Billy.  Things I am no longer able to stop.  Things for which I need your help.’

‘I don’t understand what you’re talking about.’

The old man gestured for Billy to follow him and made his way back to the stone throne.  A shadow fell over him as he lowered himself into the seat and laid his staff across his legs, and Billy looked up and gasped as he stepped back.  High above the throne hung an enormous block of black and grey stone.

‘You probably shouldn’t sit there,’ said Billy.

The old man rested his arms on the throne and said, ‘There is nothing for you to worry about, Billy.’

Billy looked up again and the old man continued, seemingly oblivious of the danger hanging above him.

‘Lifetimes ago, chaos ravaged the world.  There was order.  There were those who would try to make things right but chaos continued, in a myriad of ways.

‘There were good people who tried to bring others together and be fruitful.  Leaders, communities, farmers and shepherds, but, often, they were overwhelmed by those who wanted to take.  By those who revelled in their strength and found… purpose in their desire for more.’

‘Bullies and thieves,’ Billy muttered.

‘Among other such things, yes.  It was after such a thing that I beseeched those with power to help, or to give me the ability to do so.  They saw something in me, in what I wanted to do and that I wanted to make things right, and they granted me gifts.

‘I became the keeper of the Living Lightning and those around me gave me a new name.  It is one I have held with honour.  Shazam.’

The staff glowed.  Yellow electricity crackled along the length of it and thunder rumbled high above.

'There was a time when I could see evil coming and challenge it.  For a long time, now, my vision has been obscured.  Clouded.  Much has gone wrong with the world.  Much has grown darker, and I realised that I needed a champion who could come forward and do what I now seemed unable.'

'Someone like Superman?'

'No, my boy, he has other responsibilities.'

'But-'

'This… where we are now, is a nexus.  It is on Earth but is not on Earth.  It is far above it but it is not above it.'

'A nexus for what?'

'Magic.' 

He stood up and struck the stone floor with the staff and, as a light filled the area around them, he twisted the fingers of his right hand to form strange shapes and made their shadows dance in the air.  A circle of orange light appeared on the stone floor between them and images made of blue and green light rose up and created scenes of mages and warriors fighting giant monsters and casting out spirits.

'Across the world and throughout time, men and women have safeguarded the world against… evil.  Darkness.  Despair.  I helped create this place a long time ago to protect humankind.'

The coloured lights merged into a ball and then expanded to form a parallelogram made of rock.  The wizard looked up and saw that Billy had stepped back to the other side of the raised platform.

'I know what you are thinking, Billy.  You are right to be guarded… to be concerned.’  He suddenly appeared next to Billy.  ‘But I promise you, I mean you no harm.'

'How did you do that?' said Billy.  He stretched out his hand and touched the wizard.  Lighting crackled and tracked up his arm.  'You are real.'

'I am.  And I am old and the world is changing.'

He gestured again.

'A long time ago-’

'You keep saying those words,' Billy interrupted.

The wizard smiled.  He turned to the image of the stone and gestured yet again.  A blurry image of someone riding a horse appeared, and it shimmered into focus to show a bearded middle-aged man on a huge white horse.  He was dressed in blue robes and sported gold bracers along the length of his forearms. 

'After a great many battles, I found that I was tired and the world was… it was a little quiet.  There was still war and mankind still fought and desired, but the great demons were locked away.  Their influence could still be felt, their whispered could still be heard, but their power had been diminished.  Tombs and barriers had been erected across the world and beyond.  On Themysicra, in Khandaq, and scores of other places, shielding mankind and all seemed well. 

‘The efforts of many had borne fruit and… and it was time for us to step back.  Although we hoped it would be enough, we soon learned it was not.  For all our successes against the darkness, it always found ways of returning.  Whispered in human hearts, encouraging them to act in terrible ways.  We had hoped that our imprisoning them would lead to a great age of learning and understanding, and perhaps it would.  Perhaps everything would have been different.  But a mistake was made and the demons were released again.’

The images shimmered and faded away as the wizard said, ‘Many lives were lost but the demons were imprisoned once more.  Their influence remained, stronger somehow, but there was some safety.  Some peace.’

The wizard shuffled back to the stone throne and sat down.

‘My… friends and I turned our attention to the other realms – fantastic worlds that bordered this one – and, much like here, there was a need for protection and guidance.’

The wizard slowly turned his head and looked at the broken thrones and rubble that bordered the stone platform.  He closed his eyes and sat back, and his fingers relaxed around the staff.

_This is embarrassing_ , said the second voice Billy had heard earlier on train platform.

Billy turned in a quick circle but saw nothing and no one around him.

_He’s just thinking_ , said the third voice.

_You would say that.  Look at him-_

‘There’s no point tormenting the boy like that,’ said the wizard.  His eyes were still closed but he was sitting more upright.

_Sorry_ , said the first voice.

‘What are those voices?’ asked Billy.  ‘Where are they coming from?’

‘They are an aid and a nuisance,’ said the wizard, ‘and it’s not always easy to know which.’

Billy frowned and the wizard opened his eyes and leaned forward.  Blue-white electricity crackled across the bridge of his nose and the air hummed.

'Tell me,’ said the wizard, ‘what would you do if you had the power to change the world?'

'Change the world how?'

'Any way you wanted to.  You could rule it, if you wanted to.'

'No,' said Billy, he shook his head as he did so.

'No?'

'The world doesn't work that way.'

'But you could make it so.  Compel.  Guide.'

'Oppress.'

'Yet all the bad would be gone.'

'It doesn't work like that,' Billy said again.

'Then how would you change the world, Billy?  If you were as strong as Hercules, for example.  Would you tackle armies and overthrow tyrants?'

An image of a massive man using a tank as a bat appeared in the air between them.

'I'd _want_ to, sure,’ said Billy, as he cut through the image with his arm, ‘but it wouldn't be right.'

'It wouldn't be right to save people suffering?  To lift oppression?'

'It's not as simple as that.  How do you know another tyrant wouldn't take their place?  Someone worse?'

'If you're wise enough to see that as a possibility, then perhaps you could rule instead.'

'No.'

'So how would you fight the darkness, Billy?  How would you make the world better?'

Billy gaped at the wizard and then frowned as he took in a deep breath before exhaling and running his hands through his hair.

'I don't know,’ he said, exasperated.  ‘One day at a time.  One person at a time.'  He remembered the images he had seen on the tunnel walls and said, 'Would I free slaves?  Of course I would, but I would make sure there was somewhere for them to go to first.'

‘“To go”.’

‘Somewhere that welcomed them.  That would help and protect them.’

‘Your kingdom?’

‘I don’t have a kingdom.’

The floor lit up and an orange-coloured image of a city with tall buildings and large parks appeared.

‘But you could have-’

‘No, it would be discussed beforehand, with the people there.  Their government or something.  If they accepted it, then perhaps.  If there was a structure in place.  It’s complicated.’

The image of the city disappeared and the walls of the chamber brightened and shimmered.

‘And if they didn’t?’

‘Then somewhere else.  The world isn’t that small.  There’s always an option somewhere.’

‘That you could force people to take.’

‘Stop saying things like that.  There have to be other ways.  There have to.’

'Then it is time, Billy Batson.'

Thunder rumbled through the chamber and the rubble and thrones shook.

'”Time”?'

'You have but to say my name and the gifts and responsibility are yours.'

‘What do you mean?’

‘Change is coming and the realms will need you.  They will need you to fight for them.  To protect them.’

A small ball of red light appeared in front of the wizard and it grew wider and flatter.  Colours of brown and green and yellow traced their way through the red and created a map unlike anything Billy had ever seen before.  Sections of the map pulsed and the borders marking out seven different areas lurched forward and retreated, as if neighbouring lands were instantaneously being lost and gained.

The map expanded further and Billy saw that one of the areas was labelled as “Earthlands”.  The map suddenly expanded further, through Billy, and then pulled back into itself and became the small ball of red light again.

‘I have long guarded the realms, Billy,’ said the wizard, as he closed his hand over the ball, ‘but soon I will not be able to.  Soon, it will fall to you.’

‘Why me?’

‘Because of your heart, Billy.’

Billy touched his chest and shook his head and said, ‘There must be others out there.  Better people.’

‘And perhaps you will find them,’ said the wizard.  He gestured at the broken thrones and said, ‘Perhaps they will join you.’

'How will I know to do the right thing?'

'The answers you gave before showed that a part of you already knows how to do that.'

'But-'

'The Wisdom of Solomon will guide you.'

'Solomon?  He's real?'

'There are many things set aside as myth and legend that are real, Billy.  Pantheons have been raised and discarded, their stories shared and dismissed, and it is a pantheon now that will favour you.’

‘“Favour”?’

‘My name, Billy.’

The wizard looked tired but he smiled at Billy and nodded, encouragingly.  Hopefully.  Billy looked around the chamber and at the broken thrones.  He looked back at the platform where the train had been and remembered the lightning storm and the fedora-wearing man and the drawings in his father’s notes and the “union with lightning”.

‘Trust is key,’ he whispered.

The lightning bolt on the wizard’s staff glowed and crackled and Billy closed his eyes and took in a long breath.  He then opened his eyes and said:

'Shazam!'

The word reverberated through the chamber and the walls shook.  Lightning streaked down from the rocky ceiling and struck Billy, instantly enveloping him in a grey-white smoke.  Tendrils of yellow and blue energy danced around where Billy had been standing, and created an outline of the teenager.  Red and white energy tendrils travelled down the outline and the various colours began to expand and rise higher.

As the smoke cleared, the old wizard nodded.  Billy had disappeared and, in his place, stood a tall well-muscled man dressed in a red operetta-style uniform.  A small white braid-trimmed cape hung off his left shoulder, held there by a gold cord that wrapped around his broad shoulders.  The cape was bordered with gold trim and small florets were embroidered along it.  He had a jacket-like top with a gold button securing the breast flap just by his right shoulder, and a gold sash around his waist.

'Jebediah of Canaan,' said the man.  His voice was deep and he sounded amused.

The wizard smiled and said, 'That is a name I have not been called by in a long time.'

The main raised his hands and looked at the gold bracers on his forearms.  He then looked down and lifted a yellow-booted foot.

'This… I don't… am I still me?  I remember things… _know_ things that I never learned.'

'The gifts of powerful beings flows through you.'

'Gods?'

'Of a sort.'

'This place… you.  I can see…’ He looked to his right and the dark stone wall shimmered and opened up to reveal a long corridor lined with pedestals displaying hundreds of items.  He looked to his left and saw a sky divided in two, with one half red and the other blue.

'The Power of Zeus and the Wisdom of Solomon allow you to see through enchantments,’ said the wizard.  ‘The Rock of Eternity is imbued with magic and those walls are real-’

‘And I can see what I need to see.  I understand.’

‘You can still be blinded,’ warned the wizard.  ‘Your head can still be turned.’

The man looked at his arms and tried to wrap a hand around a massive bicep.

‘You have the strength of Hercules, and with it his gentleness.'

'"Gentleness"?'

The wizard smiled and an image of a massive man playing with children appeared.  'He was a father, and despite what was done to him he was gentle with his children.'

The image faded and another of an unarmed, bare-chested man fighting half a dozen soldiers armed with swords and dressed in ancient armour appeared.  The bare-chested man swiftly disarms five of the soldiers and then allows the sixth soldier to strike him with his sword. Although the man stumbles back a little, the sword shatters as it hits his chest.

'The skills and invulnerability of Achilles,’ says the wizard as the image fades away.

A strong wind filled the room and the short cape tugged and flapped around the man’s head.  He frowned as he spotted a blurry movement at the edge of the platform.

‘Excuse me,’ said the man.  His head turned from side to side as he tracked the blurred movement then, suddenly, he reached out and pulled his hand back.  The wind stopped and the cape fluttered and rested.  In the man’s hand was a silvery metal helmet adorned with gold wings on either side.

'The speed of Mercury,’ said the wizard.

‘And the stamina and resilience of Atlas,’ said the man, softly.  He walked back to the wizard and tapped on the helmet and yellow sparks crackled along it.

‘Indeed,’ said the wizard.  His shoulders sagged and he leaned against his staff a little more.  ‘These gifts… these abilities-’

‘Are incredible,’ said the man.  ‘They are abilities people often dream of.’  He looked at the helmet and frowned.  ‘This doesn’t belong here.’

‘It does not.’

‘But it came, as proof of his patronage.’

The wizard nodded.

‘And that I will be needed,’ said the man, softly.  The man looked at his forearms again and smiled.  ‘The stripes of a captain,’ he said, and then, barely above a whisper, he said, ‘and a witness of marvels.’

The wizard smiled.  'So, “Captain Marvel”,’ he said, ‘what-'

Captain Marvel began to shake his head and, grunting, fell to his knees and gasped.

Stunned, Shazam stared at the massive man kneeling before him.

'The Wisdom of Solomon,' said the Captain as he took in a few breaths and stood up again.

'What is it advising you?' asked the wizard.  His eyes were wide with worry.

'That Billy was hypnotised.  Years ago.'

The wizard frowned and leaned against his staff.  'Why would someone hypnotise a boy?'

'To make him forget that they had ever met.'

'I had not noticed,' muttered the wizard.  'How had I not noticed?'

'You said before that your vision had been clouded.'

'This is true, but I watched you.  I watched your life before you came.  To be sure.'

'My life?'

The wizard gestured for Captain Marvel to follow him and lead him to one of the pedestals he had seen a few moments ago.  On it sat a small globe engraved with overlapping maps.

'The Historama,’ said the wizard.  ‘I looked through it to see the paths you have walked.'

'Historama,' said Captain Marvel, and then he clapped his hands twice and said, 'show me Billy Batson's meeting with Gerard Shugel.'

The Historama glowed and expanded.  The maps spun and danced and projected an image into the air.  It showed the white office Billy had sat in when he learned of his family’s passing.  Words leaped up and hovered just above the small globe as the Historama sped through the event.

' _You will forget we ever met_ '

The wizard stepped back, astounded by what he has just seen.  He looked at Captain Marvel and said, 'This is more than mere telepathy.  To mask this from me would need layers of magic and foreknowledge.'

'Of?'

'You being the Champion.'


End file.
